


a confession

by violetinfidel



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Four Swords
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Its a good time, Love Confessions, M/M, also i wrote this at 1 in the morning so thanks, and finally just mans up and confesses, chickens out at the last second and puts it off by telling green to talk to him later, hmmm my first actual posted ship work, lets see how this goes, tries to stall even MORE with the excuse of fixing his bow, vios basically like hm well i might as well just come right out with it and tell him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 05:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14784216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetinfidel/pseuds/violetinfidel
Summary: i'm bad at titles, sorry





	a confession

**Author's Note:**

  * For [105ttt](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=105ttt).



> i'm bad at titles, sorry

Green almost doesn’t bother to show up.

Vio had caught him before they’d went their separate ways for the day’s sparring, after most everyone had left breakfast, pulled him aside with a strange almost guarded look in his eyes.

“I want to talk to you later,” He’d said, with an odd sort of hesitant urgency, “After dinner. If you aren’t too tired.”

Green had tried to study his face for any sort of clues as to what this was all about, but had found nothing; Vio was, for better or for worse, very good at hiding things when he really wanted to. “We can talk now,” He’d suggested, “I’ve got a few minutes.”

Vio had shaken his head, realized suddenly he’d still had Green’s wrist in his hand and dropped it. “Later is better,” He’d told him. “If it’s okay by you.”

“Well, sure, it’s fine, but-”

“I’ll see you, then,” He’d said, cutting Green off entirely, and had turned to leave, but Green had grabbed his shoulder and held him back.

“Did something happen? Is it urgent?”

“It can wait. Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing too serious.” Then Vio had shrugged his hand off and walked away like someone had lit a fire to his heels.

And sure, Vio had said not to worry, but it was odd behavior from Vio and Green couldn’t just  _ ignore _ it, so naturally he worried. It lingered in the back of his mind through the day, gnawed at him not badly enough for him to call his sparring off but just pervasive enough to put him off his game (a fact Blue took advantage of to no end). By the time their break for lunch rolled around, he’d resolved to just go see Vio then, maybe get a quiet place outside to eat so he could just do away with the  _ suspense _ \- but Vio, and in fact the entire archer company, wasn’t present for lunch, and he was later informed that they’d elected to take a later session.

So he waited and he worried, and Vio wasn’t at dinner either, although a few of the earliest to arrive at the mess hall did mention they’d seen him leaving with a tray. Which meant, at the least, that he was eating, and that was enough to keep Green from working himself up too badly.

But the more he thought about it, the more he thought that it probably wasn’t some _ thing _ Vio wanted to talk about but some _ one _ , because whenever it came down to interpersonal issues Vio was very very careful with his words and even more careful in who he chose to speak to about it. And then he started worrying that maybe one of them had done something, and then he got to thinking that maybe it was  _ him _ that’d done something (even though his conscience was clear and quiet as a reflecting pool).

Hence his considering just ditching altogether. Vio  _ had _ offered an out, albeit an indirect one; he could just say he’d been too worn out by the day’s work, had completely forgotten in his fatigue, and he’s sure Vio of all people would understand.

The problem is that he really doesn’t like lying, and especially if it’s to people he really cares about, and on top of that he’s certain that Vio could see right through anything he could come up with- but Vio probably wouldn’t make an issue of it, which would just make him feel worse about it.

So he walks up to Vio’s door, takes a deep breath and knocks and then decides to let himself in, breezy and casual, and hopes his anxiety isn’t too obvious.

“Hey,” Green says, with what he’d like to think is admirable nonchalance.

“Hello,” Vio says, in the voice that means his attention is fully absorbed in something else. “Sorry, I’ll be with you in a minute. Finishing something up.”

“Take your time,” Green tells him, meaning it with all his heart, helps himself to a seat on his bed and sprawls out there.

He can only content himself with observing the room for so long; there isn’t all that much to begin with, and certainly nothing he hasn’t already seen, and Green has half a mind to go on a tangent about the impersonality of the room just to fill the silence. But he knows that Vio isn’t really paying attention, and even if he were it would probably just irritate him as it always does, and Green’s here to talk about whatever it is that’s going on, not to piss him off. So he watches Vio work, and notices that the frame of Vio’s bow is sitting on the desk in two pieces, and Green’s no expert, but he’s pretty sure that’s one piece more than it should be.

“What _happened_ ,” He asks, and Vio snorts.  
“New recruit borrowed it, dry fired and snapped it clean in half,” He says, very obviously very irritated, and huffs out a sharp breath and draws in a long one. “It needed replacing anyway, but he chose a bad time in my schedule for it. I _told_ him not to do it and he went right ahead and ignored me.”

“So what’re you doing now?”

“Winding a new string. The old one was too frayed to justify reusing.” Something goes wrong, presumably, because Vio makes a frustrated noise, plucks an arrow out of the quiver resting against the desk and takes the in-progress bowstring and comes over to the bed and sits beside Green, threads the ends on one side into a loose loop and hooks it around the shaft of the arrow and tightens it. “Hold this,” He says, and hands it to Green, and when Green takes it he takes up the loose string and goes back to winding them.

It doesn’t look fun in any sense of the word. Vio’s sitting with the string hardly a foot from his face, brow furrowed in concentration while he tries to weave them tightly enough to fit the arrow’s notch without slipping or stretching the shaft, and it’s a little while before he just sighs and takes a little metal ring and clasps it over his last successful part and throws the unfinished string in the general direction of the desk.

“You really have to do that?”

“If I don’t then I’ll have to wait on the fletcher to fix it, and he has a waiting list a mile long. Easier to do it myself. I know how.”

“Doesn’t seem like an easy job to me.”

“It isn’t,” Vio agrees, and drops the arrow back into the quiver, “But it would be much easier if I could take my time instead of doing a two-day rush job. Idiot kid.”

“Vio.”

“Sorry,” He says, though Green isn’t sure whether he means it, “It’s frustrating is all. I’ll get over it.”

Green waits patiently as Vio gets his desk put in slightly better order, hangs his quiver on its hook and properly puts the half-string away and shoves the two pieces of his bow to a less noticeable spot. It doesn’t seem like there can be anything much wrong, by the way Vio’s acting, and it puts him at ease a little.

“So did you want to talk to me or just fix your bow in front of me,” Green says, when Vio sits back down and makes no attempt to speak.

“Hold on. I can’t hold a conversation when I’m annoyed or someone’s going to end up crying. And I’m almost two weeks clean.”

Green can’t help a laugh at that, makes room when Vio lays down and closes his eyes and acts like he’s just had the longest day in the world.

It’s a few long moments of silence, but it’s a comfortable silence, and Green’s telling himself to stop staring when Vio blows out a long breath and folds his arms over his stomach.

“Okay,” He says, “Sorry. Anyway.”

“Is someone bullying you,” Green says, in a flat, approaching-serious voice, and Vio snorts and smiles just the tiniest bit.

“The kid broke my bow, does that count?” He shakes his head, closes his eyes for a long moment and then opens them. “No, but really, I’m serious, I’ve got something to tell you. I’m sorry for being kind of cryptic earlier, too. You looked… very confused, to say the least.”

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Vio’s beating around the bush, stalling, and most people wouldn’t pick that up but he certainly does, and it sets him wondering. 

“I don’t know how to say this, really-”

“Vio doesn’t know how to say something? Give me a second, let me find a calendar to write this on-”

“Shut it, will you,” Vio says, mock-annoyed but entirely without heat, “You’re always telling me to be  _ honest _ and  _ forthcoming _ and whatever and then you do that.”

“Sorry, go ahead, I won’t do it again.”

“Anyway,” He says, pauses to pick up his train of thought, and suddenly his throat feels kind of dry and a little tight, and he swallows hard. “I’m not sure how to say it but I think maybe it’s better off simple anyway- I’ve, uh-”

“You’re pregnant.”

“Green, for the love of  _ Hylia _ -”

“Sorry, sorry, it was an opportunity!”

Green thinks maybe he’s taken it just a little step too far, because Vio looks at him, scowling, but- when he turns he looks like he’s  _ blushing _ , unless it’s just the lighting and no there’s definitely color rising to his cheeks and he looks, dare Green think it, anxious. ...Scared.

“If I can finish my  _ sen _ tence,” Vio says, pointedly but noticeably shaky, “I just wanted to say that I…  _ like _ you.” He swallows hard again, looks away. “That’s it. And don’t ask me the  _ like like _ thing like I’m some kind of kindergartener or I swear I’m not going to talk to you for a month.” When Green says nothing, does nothing, he adds, hastily, “Hell, I still might not, after embarrassing myself like this.”

Green blinks, then blinks again and takes a moment to process and then laughs, a little incredulously, and pries Vio’s hands apart and holds one. “I’ll be honest,” He says, “Of all the things I was expecting you to tell me, that wasn’t one of them. But,” He tacks on, when Vio seems to deflate a little, “Hey, don’t get that look, I’m not saying I’m not  _ happy _ about it.”

“You aren’t saying you  _ are _ .”

“I am,” Green agrees, scoots a little closer so he’s not bending Vio’s arm so weird, and smiles at him. “I was just surprised is all. Not everyone’s got a two-second turnaround time on comebacks like you do.”

“It takes about two seconds for me to turn around and walk right out of here,” Vio grumbles, tries to hide how red his face is and fails spectacularly.

“It’s your own room,” Green points out, feeling a little giddy, “Not the best idea, I think.”

Vio uses his free hand to pull the throw blanket over his face. “Don’t talk to me.”

“Sure thing,” Green says, grinning, lays beside him and slides an arm around his shoulders before he can protest. “Can I lay with you?”

“No.”

“Can I look at you?”

“No.”

“Can I, uh, I dunno, spar with you?”

“All interaction with me is forbidden. Forever.”

“Not a fantastic way to be treating your boyfriend, I’d say. Two minutes in and already giving me the cold shoulder.”

“Awful hard to be dating someone you aren’t allowed to speak to.”

“No it’s not, there are plenty of mute people out there in happy relationships.”

“Prohibited and physically unable are two very different sets of circumstances.”

“Maybe so, but I’m so charming, you couldn’t ignore me for very long.”

Vio tries to stifle his laugh and can’t. “You’re something, alright.”


End file.
